


The Mix-Up

by ronans



Series: Prompts [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: AU, First Dates, Fluff, M/M, prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2015-01-14
Packaged: 2018-03-04 06:54:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2956511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ronans/pseuds/ronans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><strong>Prompt:</strong> Ian and Mickey have never met and they accidentally take each others phones and then when they realize they took the wrong phone they’re like dang who this cutie and such and such follows - <a href="http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com/post/106562202464/heyy-ok-i-have-a-prompt-that-ian-and-mickey-have">Anon</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

One thing Ian does not appreciate is Lip texting him non stop about his latest breakup, especially when his train’s running late. He’s sat on a bench glaring at his phone as it buzzes incessantly in his hand.

 **_[17:17] Asshole:_ ** _dude she is a cold ducking bitch I swear to god_

 **_[17:17] Asshole:_ ** _FUCKING bitch_

 **_[17:18] Asshole:_ ** _I gave her my fucking apartment key_

He eventually sighs and puts it on silent, placing it next to him on the bench he’s sat on whilst waiting for the train. He’s pissed off and cold and _fuck_ he just wants to get home. Tiredly, he rubs his hands over his face and then pulls his fingers through his hair.

‘Fucking trains,’ he hears someone grumble next to him. Ian smirks but doesn't turn around, not wanting to look creepy. And, honestly, he’s too tired to socialise.

He zones out for the remaining wait until he sees his train pull up to the platform. He picks up his cell and starts his journey back home without much thought.

*      

Mickey finally caving and buying himself an iPhone didn't mean he was suddenly attached to the thing because it was new and shiny. In fact, his lack of interest in it was a bit of a problem. Mandy had been fucking elated, irritating him to no end as she taught him how to use it and cooing about how he was finally acting his age. His brick phone had worked. It made calls and let him text whoever he wanted. And yet Mandy had pissed him off enough to get him to fold and “ _upgrade”_.

The cell clatters as he carelessly drops it next to him on the bench he’s taken a seat on at the L station. Mickey isn't even mildly concerned if the screen’s cracked, much more focused on the attractive redhead he’s sat down next to. Slyly, he watches the other man from the corner of his eye; no way is he gonna get caught checking the guy out. He looks annoyed, glaring at his – Jesus – his _iPhone_. They're fucking everywhere.

Mickey lets out a huff of air and glances at his watch, grumbling about trains under his breath. He thinks he can see the ginger dude smiling and, shit, he looks even better when he’s happy. The tired look soon comes back though and Mickey’s left to secretly study the side of the man’s face, how ruffled his hair is and how bruised the skin under his blue-green eyes is.

Mickey doesn't actually know how long he keeps this up, half listening out for any word about his own train, but eventually, the hot redhead breathes out a sigh of relief and stands up to get on the train that’s just drawn into the station, grabbing his phone and slipping it into his pocket. Mickey watches with slight disappointment as he leaves and disappears in a sea of commuters once on the carriage. Mickey tips his head back and glares up at the sky. He’s bored as hell, and now, with the absence of anything pretty to look at, he’s feeling it so much more. He only has to wait a few minutes before there’s an announcement on the speakers. And obviously his train’s been cancelled. _Fan-fucking-tastic_.

Before getting up to leave, he figures he should call his boss while he’s still sat down and so picks his phone up off the bench. Well, Mickey’d _like_ to call his boss, but his phone has miraculously locked itself with a passcode. Yeah, he’s pretty sure he never set one as it’s quite clear he doesn't even have the know how to send a coherent text on his new touchscreen. Shit.

Then he sees that the phone in his hand, though the same model as Mickey’s, actually has a clear phone case. Shit. Shit shit shit shit _shit_. That’s not his phone.

‘Uh…’ he breathes out, slightly panicked, glancing from side to side as if _that’s_ gonna help. ‘Fuck.’

He scratches the back of his neck and then holds his hand there, mind racing because for one, buying that phone had eaten into a significant amount of his pay check and two, his boss is going to _kill him._

He slumps back against the bench and lets out a full-bodied groan, covering his eyes with his hands.

*

It’s not until Ian throws his keys onto his side table that he realises the phone he’s trying to text his sister on isn't actually _his_.

His personalised background of a picture of him and Debbie has been replaced with the default background image, there’s no passcode lock and his phone case is missing, revealing a considerably more damaged iPhone than Ian remembers owning not half an hour previously.

Ian’s first idea is to look through the phone’s contacts but they're relatively scarce. Then he decides to scroll through the photo album to see if he maybe recognises anyone in the pictures. Again, there’s not much there but he finds his face splitting into a grin when his eyes land on three consecutive selfies.

One of them is clearly the the owner of the phone’s first ever attempt at it but fuck he still looks good and adorably clueless. He’s not posing as such, but it’s at a pretty good angle, showing off the guy’s amazing blue eyes, dark hair and (Ian’s just subjectively observing here) extremely kissable lips. He tries not to stare at it too long, feeling slightly weird about it – he justifies it as gathering evidence to solve a mystery – and then swipes the screen to move onto the next photo. It’s of the same guy, who Ian’s definitely sure the phone belongs to, with a girl who looks like she’s probably a sibling. He looks annoyed at having to be a part of the picture while she’s seemingly ecstatic. Ian smiles and continues to the final picture of… half of the man’s face… yeah he’d accidentally put his finger over the camera.

As Ian lets out a small chuckle he remembers, _thinks_ he remembers, sitting next to a dark haired man whilst waiting for his delayed train.

It doesn't take him long to work out what’s happened from there and he figures he might as well take advantage of the situation, maybe get to know the man he’d accidentally swapped phones with a little more. After tapping in his own number that he knows off by heart, Ian brings the phone up to his ear and smirks as it begins to ring.

*

Every five seconds someone called _Asshole_ causes the cell phone to light up in Mickey’s palm. He can’t fucking get _in_ to the phone to get any clues about who they're messaging, to who the fuck the mobile belongs to – though he’s pretty damn certain it’s the redhead’s. In some ways he’s kind of hoping it is… Well, okay, for obvious reasons he definitely is; the dude’s unfortunately good-looking as fuck.

Mickey angrily pulls his cigarette from his lips and forcefully breathes out smoke, staring down at the phone in his hands. He can’t stop thinking about his boss and the consequences of him skipping the day because of a cancelled train.

The walk home isn't too long and soon enough he finds himself yanking open his front door and throwing his thick winter coat onto the sofa before following it down. He places the cell gently onto his coffee table and stares at it, leaning his elbows on his knees and biting at his nails. What the fuck does he do now? He doesn't have a landline, and even if he did, he doesn't have his number memorised nor his work’s. Such a simple thing as misplacing his damned phone has really fucked up his day.

Mickey puffs out his cheeks and then slowly lets out a long exhale, scratching at the back of his head. When the phone screen illuminates for a longer period of time, Mickey starts to chew the inside of his cheek because shit, someone’s calling the… redhead that he doesn't know the name of. Great.

Before thinking too much into it or about what the fuck he’s going to say, he rises up off the couch and picks up the call, starting to pace up and down the living room.

‘Hello?’ he answers cautiously.

‘ _Hi, my name’s Ian Gallagher, I think you have my phone_?’

Mickey breathes out a tiny sigh of relief and nods his head despite the fact that he’s not having a face to face conversation. ‘Uh, yeah, probably. You got mine?’

‘ _Depends if you're the cute brunette or not_.’

Bold. That was insanely bold. For a second, Mickey has to stand still and just let himself process that. After a couple of agonising seconds, he composes his features and puts a hand on his hip. ‘I wouldn't say cute.’

 _What the fuck is going on?_ It’s not like Ian had been the one checking out _Mickey_ back at the station.

Mickey shakes his head and then carries on pacing around his apartment, listening to the end of Ian’s laughter.

‘Who’s Asshole?’

There’s silence on the other end of the line and it drags on for so long that Mickey actually pulls the phone away from his ear to see if the guy had hung up on him. He’s still on the line so _what the hell_.

‘Hello? You gonna fucking answer me?’

‘ _Oh_!’ He sounds so shocked. ‘ _Sorry_! _I thought there was someone else in the room and you were… having a weird side conversation with them… Like, you were talking to_ them _._ ’

Mickey pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a deep breath. ‘Not _whose asshole_ , I meant who _is_ Asshole.’ When there’s no reply again, Mickey lets out a long, exasperated exhale. ‘Your phone. Fuck, the person who keeps texting you.’

‘Oh,’ he replies knowingly. Jesus Christ. ‘ _That’s my brother, Lip. He just broke up with his girlfriend and decided I was the best outlet_.’

‘…Okay.’

Ian snickers and Mickey can tell he’s still smiling as he talks. ‘ _What’s your name_?’

Should he…? ‘Mickey.’ Whatever, too late.

‘ _Mickey… How about we trade back our phones over… coffee_?’ Mickey hadn't even realised he’d gone this long without expanding on the sole reason they're talking.

‘I don't fuckin’ know you.’ His protest is weak and he knows it. And how the fuck else is he going to get it back? If he declines he’s just going to make life more difficult for himself.

‘ _Well_ I’d _like to know_ you.’

Attractive fucker trying to be smooth, okay, sure. Who gives a fuck if it works. ‘When and where?’ Mickey sighs.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this took so long to get out, but I hope you like it :)

The following day’s a Tuesday, Mickey’s day off, and he finds himself awkwardly sitting in a café tapping his fingers against a ceramic coffee cup. He takes it that this is Ian’s lunch break and that’s probably why he’s running late. It’s not making him feel any better about this… okay, so he doesn’t even have to squint at it to class it as a date. Game recognises game.

Mickey drains the rest of his coffee and goes up to the counter to get a refill.

‘You been stood up? Aw, that’s too bad,’ the girl at the counter says as she takes his mug and her tone tells him that she’s really not viewing this as a bad thing, couldn’t give a shit about the possibility that Mickey’s ego’s taken a severe blow.

His eyebrows shoot up. He’s about to tell her that she should _mind her own fucking business_ when he feels a long arm snake around his waist. Mickey’s suddenly enveloped with the smell of nice aftershave and cinnamon.

‘Who said anything about him being stood up?’

It’s Ian, thank fuck, because Mickey had been seconds away from punching him in the face had it been anyone else.

The barista blinks, mouth agape, and nearly scalds herself with how long she’s been setting up the hot milk. ‘Shit!’

Her cheeks fill with colour as she wipes her hands shakily on her apron, her head down as she finishes off making Mickey’s coffee. And fuck, why does Mickey feel bad for her?

She clears her throat and hands Mickey his coffee, turning to Ian. ‘Can I get you anything, sir?’

Ian peers into Mickey’s cup and then nods. ‘Same as him.’ Mickey just narrows his eyes at the side of Ian’s face but doesn't comment.

‘Sure!’

Ian’s clearly amused but neither of them say anything as they stand waiting for the poor girl to make Ian’s drink and it’s pretty fucking awkward. After they’ve paid, Mickey finally starts to talk.

‘You didn’t even look at me back at the station, how the fuck you even know it was me? Not like the pictures on my phone were of the back of my head,’ Mickey hisses as they walk back to his table in the corner.

Ian shrugs as they sit down, a smirk on his face. ‘Process of elimination. I figured, or should I say _hoped_ you weren't an old woman or a newly blonde haired middle aged man who reads the paper whilst wearing glasses on a string.’

Mickey frowns at Ian before glancing around the coffee shop. Considering it’s lunchtime, it’s surprisingly empty and Mickey’s eyes quickly land on the people Ian had been describing.

‘Fucking exquisite timing,’ Mickey murmurs before taking a sip of his drink. Ian chuckles and nods.

‘Yeah, I wasn’t gonna say anything until after you’d got your coffee but her looking for an opportunity to hit on you? Nope. Glad I was there to stop it.’

Mickey lets out a short, surprised laugh. ‘Already defending your man, Gallagher?’

Ian quirks an eyebrow and peers at Mickey over the rim of his mug. ‘Is that what you’d want to be? _My man_?’

Shit, if Mickey wasn't so good at hiding his emotions, he’d have a full on blush covering his cheeks. Instead, he rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. ‘Just give me my damn phone and we’ll talk about it.’

Ian grins and reaches into his pocket, the short pause in their flirting giving Mickey the opportunity to think about how they’d only ever had one previous conversation and even that had been over the phone. And yet here they are, flirting easily. It’s… weird, but Mickey actually doesn’t mind it at all. He guesses this is what it’s like to just click with someone straight away.

Ian slowly places Mickey’s phone in his awaiting palm like he thinks Mickey’s going to bolt as soon as he’s got what he came here for. Mickey snickers at his caution and nearly stands up just to fuck with the guy but ultimately decides not to… He’s kinda liking Ian too much to do that.

‘Can I have mine too?’

‘Yeah. Ay, word of advice, get rid of your fuckin’ passcode so those of us who aren’t hacker geniuses can snoop through your stuff.’

‘ _Please_ , my passcode’s literally four zeros. You honestly didn’t even try that combination?’

Mickey purses his lips in the face of Ian’s highly entertained grin. ‘I… didn’t even think of that, no.’

‘Gotta say, you missed out on some stunning, model level selfies and several pictures of my cat.’

‘Yeah, I bet I did,’ Mickey says sarcastically, swallowing more of his coffee and then pulling his eyebrows together. ‘You got a cat?’

‘Yup, Treacle the cat,’ Ian responds proudly, taking Mickey’s question as a cue to unlock his phone and look through his photo album. Dork.

‘Wow, such an original name.’

Ian scowls up at Mickey. ‘Shut up, at least I didn’t call her Mittens.’

‘Do I really have to look through a ton of photos of you grinning your ass off whilst cuddling a small animal?’

‘Yup.’

‘Great.’ Mickey’s actually pretty interested in seeing more of Ian but he’s got a slight reputation to uphold and expressing how much he wants to see the pictures would obliterate it.

‘Oh, whoops, I nearly showed you a dick pic.’ Mickey’s eyes broaden and Ian catches it, instantly exploding with laughter. ‘I was joking. Jesus.’

‘I knew that, you fucking moron,’ Mickey grumbles, quickly hiding behind his mug. Ian beams at him.

‘That’s cute.’

‘Why you gotta keep callin’ me cute? I’ll fuck you up.’ He knows his knuckle tattoos are exposed from where his hands are clasped around his mug so he hopes that’ll add to effect and draw Ian’s attention away from the obvious fondness in his voice.

Ian wiggles his eyebrows. ‘Oh, please do.’

Mickey practically winces and shakes his head. ‘That is the cheesiest fucking comeback ever, how do you even get laid?’

Ian winks his eye as he screws his face up. ‘It’s been a while.’

‘Would never have guessed.’

‘ _Anyway_ ,’ Ian says, shoving his phone in Mickey’s face. ‘Isn’t she adorable?’

Mickey grimaces at the phone, basically going cross-eyed from how fucking close the screen is to his face. ‘I guess.’

‘Wow,’ Ian mutters, instantly clutching his cell to his chest. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’

Mickey chuckles. ‘How dramatic can you fucking get?’

‘You haven’t met my sister; she’s so much worse than me…’ Ian purses his lips and then grins. ‘Oh! Before I forget, your boss called asking where you were.’

Mickey raises his eyebrows. ‘Shit. What did he say?’

‘He was kinda pissed but I explained the situation so he’s not _as_ angry at you as he was.’

‘Thanks, man,’ Mickey says, feeling pretty fucking relieved. ‘So you-‘

‘Oh _shit_!’

Mickey’s eyes widen in slight alarm as Ian glances back down at his phone and slaps a hand to his forehead. ‘What? Fuck, where’s the fuckin’ fire?’

Ian sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and groans, picking up his mug and tipping his head back to drain the cup. Mickey stares at the column of Ian’s exposed neck, not even bothering to hide his obvious interest. Ian wipes his mouth on the back of his hand once he’s finished.

‘Ow, my stomach hurts.’

‘No fucking wonder, you gulped that down like you were dying, what the hell’s wrong?’

Ian smiles sheepishly and then shows Mickey the time. ‘Gotta go or I’ll be late back to work.’

Mickey rolls his eyes and grins. ‘So. Dramatic. Jesus Christ, the world’s not ending, you’ll be fine.’

There’s a brief pause as Ian continues to nibble at his lip, seemingly internally debating something. ‘You wanna do this again sometime?’ Ian asks, and he suddenly seems a lot less full of it now there’s a real possible chance of Mickey refusing.

‘As long as you don’t have to steal my phone then I’m down for it.’

If everyone were as happy as Ian looks at the prospect of seeing Mickey, he’d be… no wait, he’d probably be really concerned. His grin could fucking light up the room.

Ian ponders for a moment, tapping his fingers against the tabletop. ‘Friday night at my place? When I don’t have to get back to work.’

Mickey smiles, tapping his own finger against the back of Ian’s hand. ‘’Kay.’

‘It’s a date.’

‘It’s a fuckin’ date.’

**Author's Note:**

> [If you have a prompt, send me an ask :)](http://southsidemilkovich.tumblr.com)


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